I once tripped and fell in a ditch. The ditch was shaped like me and would only go as deep as I could. I made the ditch my home and was too afraid to leave; what if I fell into another ditch that wasn’t my size?
In this ditch I passed time by wondering how I really knew that the ditch-sized-me belonged in a ditch my size. I called my inquiries Philosophy and assured myself that I was transcending my ditch by questioning its place in my life. I realized that this ditch would never change and by extension I would never change. All I knew was the ditch, and the only depth this ditch had was what I knew from my fall into it.
I tried digging the ditch for more depth, but the floor was too hard. When I put more effort into digging, my fingers bled. Sometimes I wouldn’t care and would keep digging, but other times I would stop because of the fear that I’d dig myself into irreversible darkness. I was too afraid to climb out and I was too afraid to dig deep. Fear stabilized me in the ditch. I was proud of my Philosophy.
As my Life neared its end, I fondly touched the walls of my ditch with my weak hands. Just as all my Life was spent in this ditch, all my Death would be spent in it too; I would have conquered eternity itself! I died with my mouth and eyes open. My elbows were quivering, my knees felt tingly, my inhales and exhales grew lengthy. I can’t remember when my breathing stopped, but I remember the ditch getting smaller and smaller, almost like it was still trying to fit me.